


Shadow's Call

by Kiley



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Dad!Tony Stark, F/M, Reader Insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-14 00:35:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16482731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiley/pseuds/Kiley
Summary: Tony Stark had thought he’d lost his daughter after the plane went down on their way to Paris on her 8th birthday.You couldn’t remember anything before waking up on the side of a road in Sokovia with a bloody gash on your head.Bucky Barnes couldn’t remember anything before HYDRA.A bond between you and Bucky grows after he meets you in Bucharest, and you quickly decide you’d follow him to the ends of the earth. When a civil war breaks out between the Avengers you join the fight, not knowing your past, present, and future would collide on a battlefield.inspired by Anastasia, loosely follows Civil War





	1. Prologue: Once Upon . . .

Tony Stark was never one to deal with his emotions in effective ways, so when the therapist he’d seen for a brief moment told him it would be a good idea to celebrate her birthday instead of remembering it as the day he lost her he hadn’t put any stock into it.

  
Then he was kidnapped, and his perception on everything changed. Now, instead of drinking himself into a coma on that day, he took himself to Paris: the place he’d been in the process of taking her. He stood on the bridge, gazing into the water, letting the tears fall behind his sunglasses. She would have loved this place, he was still sure of it.

  
He sighed heavily and let his head roll back, her tiny voice echoing in his ears.

 

_When Howard Stark died, Tony swore he was never going to be like him. He swore that his children would never live with the guilt of hating their father when he passed. So when Kiley Stark came along after a booze filled planned one night stand, he viewed this as his second chance. He was there for it all: for the first ultrasound, through the baby shower, even sitting through and actively participating in the birth._

  
_God, he loved watching her grow. He relished in every birthday, every mile stone, every smiles. Her first word was ‘dada’ and she was always the happiest when around Tony in his lab, watching him tinker with different things. One of his first wildly successful inventions after JARVIS was a singing, flying bird that she adored._

  
_It was her eighth birthday when he decided to take her to Paris for the first time. Tony and she were on a private jet, small but spacious enough that she had spent most the trip there sleeping on a couch. Her mom was already in Paris, but he needed to stop in Russia first for a conference, but he didn’t stay long. It was more of an appearance anyways. Besides, there was a spot in particular he was excited to take her to, it was his favorite spot in all of Paris. A little bridge that crossed a river, near a square that housed a sprawling garden. It was breathtaking and ethereal, and the perfect place for the light of his life._

  
_He was currently watching her color a photo of the Eiffel Tower, adding fairies all around it. He loved the way her little mind always saw the best in everything, saw between the lines to the magic underneath. He grabbed a present from a cabinet, scooting over to her, a wide smile on his face._

  
_“Hey sweetheart, I’ve got an early birthday present for you.” His voice was soft and warm as he watched her head jerk up._

  
_“Really??”_

  
_He nodded as she abandoned her coloring in an instant. Handing over the present she tore into it with vigor._

  
_She gasped softly, looking over the music box in her hands. It was gorgeous, a soft, pale pink ladened with gold filigree. It was small and oval, fitting in her hands perfect._

  
_“It’s beautiful daddy!” She smiled wide at him, eyes dancing._

  
_“There’s another part to it,” He pulled a necklace from his pocket, a long gold chain with a pink and gold dahlia adorned pendent, “When you put the pendent near the front, it opens the music box.”_

  
_He handed her the necklace and she immediately put it on, marveling at the detail of the pendent. Slowly and reverently she placed the pendent near the front of the box and it sprung open, a melody tinkling out._

  
_“It’s our song!” She smiled excitedly, looking up at Tony. He nodded, happiness radiating from him in waves._

 

_“It is! Do you like it?” He asked, knowing she did._

  
_She threw her arms around him, holding him tight and nodding, “Thank you so much daddy.”_

  
_“Of course sweetie, anything for my favorite girl.” He laughed softly, “Now you and your momma are gonna go shopping tomorrow while daddy goes and picks something up, okay? I’ll meet you at the bridge okay? Remember the bridge I told you about?”_

  
_She nodded, still hugging him._

  
_“I’ll meet you right there. I’m so excited to show it to you.”_

  
_The plane lurched suddenly, the lights flickering overhead._

  
_“What was that??” Tony asked, holding her close, “JARVIS diagnostics”_

  
_“A projectile narrowly -”_

  
_An explosion cut JARVIS off. The plane lurched again, this time downward. Tony knew they were in freefall. His mind racing, he tried to think over her cries, tried to come up with a way to save her, his own life be damned._

  
_He stood suddenly, taking her with him as he stumbled over to the parachutes. He’d open the door and time it, letting her go first then he’d follow. He wasn’t going to think about how the parachute was an adult one, or how pathetic her shaking body looked as he bundled her in one of the blankets they had on the plane before strapping her in as tight as possible. He wasn’t going to think about the way her big eyes pleaded with him to keep her safe._

  
_He got her attention for a moment and motioned to the rip chord on the harness. She nodded in understanding: he’d taught her this before the plane took off at the start of the journey, just in case. Tony just never realized that just in case would happen._

  
_“I love you!” He yelled above the roar as the plane inched closer and closer to the earth._

  
_He pried the door open after quickly getting his own parachute on and stood in the doorway, holding her tight. He was going to wait until he could see a huge clearing, or some water, but all he could see were snow covered trees as far as the eye could see. He was running out of time and the only thing underneath were those fucking trees._

  
_Her crying pierced his heart, broke it and ripped it apart into thousands of pieces as he realized he was out of time. With one last kiss to her forehead he tossed her out of the plane just before it caught on fire. He jumped too once the heat seared his back, watching in growing horror as the blast hurdled her away from him. By the time she had deployed her chute she was so far away from him he couldn’t even hear her cries anymore._

 

Tony sniffed as he wiped his eyes, shaking his head abruptly. He held the music box in his hands, a little battered, a little burnt, but it still played when he opened it. He’d held out hope for that first year or so, once he’d been found somewhere in the woods of Sokovia he’d raced to the nearest computer to try and track the necklace he’d given her. He’d put a tracker in it, ever the paranoid parent. A part of him died when it wasn’t online.

  
He checked every day, praying that it would. They scoured the woods, finding nothing but some broken branches and blood. That had really killed him. He was inconsolable for days, almost ripped all his hair. As the days progressed so did the number of whiskey bottles he drank. Finally one day he just . . . gave up. It was easier that way, a year later and he knew there was no way she would have survived the harsh winter.

  
He purged her from media, all medical records. As far as the world knew, he didn’t have a daughter. The only ones who remembered after her mother passed away was him and JARVIS. Even the team didn’t know. They thought he was in Paris for a vacation, thought he went every year because he liked the city.

  
Tony Stark laid a hand on the rail of the bridge and smiled softly, “I love you sweetheart.”


	2. Call The Child "Anya"

Bucky Barnes was pretty sure that was his name. He was at least 99.5% sure since he couldn’t actively remember anyone calling him that but Steve. He remembered Steve though, the scruffy kid who used to fight anyone that looked at him funny, regardless of size. He was also starting to remember two woman too, maybe his Ma and sister?

  
He’d started journaling to try and spark memories and at first the notebook was pathetically empty. Since the move to Bucharest though he was proud of how full it was getting. He couldn’t really distinguish between real and dreams just yet, but even having the ghost of a memory was a comfort.

  
Wednesday’s he didn’t work at the bakery that was a good 30 minute walk from his run-down apartment, so that was his favorite day. He didn’t mind the work: it kept him hidden in the back, gave him money to live off, and the owner sent him home with some sort of baked good every night. He just liked his sleep and with the 12 hour days and the long walk he rarely got that.

  
There was always that one small hiccup though. His arm. At first he had been so careful to keep at least a long sleeve shirt on and one glove, but the back room got so fucking hot with that oven he found himself sweating to death, constantly on the verge of heat stroke, chugging water every chance he got. Not only that, but it was near impossible to wear a latex glove over the fabric glove he kept on that hand, it would continually break and then he’d get fuzzies from the glove onto the dough, and it would just be a mess.

  
About a month into this job he got so exasperated that he ripped the glove off and shoved his shirt sleeve up, huffing and puffing the whole time. Normally the owner didn’t come back during rushes, so he thought he was safe for now. Of course, karma hated his guts. No less than a minute later, while he was trying to make the dough as quick as possible, his boss wandered in.

  
He’d paused in fear, staring at her with wide eyes, breathing heavily, hair falling out of the ponytail he’d done up before the work day. She barely bat an eye when they landed on his arm. She’d asked him about the dough, wondering if he’d been following the recipes. He’d nodded slowly, like a deer ready for the lion to attack. Satisfied, she’d left him to get back to it. Since then he didn’t hide his arm at the shop when it was just the two of them.

  
Today though he needed food other than bread, so he pulled his ball cap low on his head and made his way out to the outdoor market a stone’s throw away. A few bags of food later, he decided he’d be done after he got his hands on some plums. The bakery had just introduced a plum pudding style bread and he’d loved it so much the owner let him take two loaves home. He’d never had plums growing up, never realized what he was missing. He’d been missing alot apparently, and he was determined to make up for lost time.

  
As he wandered over up to a little plum stand, he thought about why he’d never had a plum before. He vaguely recalled tough conversations with one of the women he was starting to remember about money, how they barely had any. Maybe it was because of the war going on at the time, the one he’d lost his arm too. Though he didn’t like thinking about that particular memory, that was the one he remembered the most. The rush of air past his ears, the impact of the fall, the searing pain throughout his whole body, the biting cold.

  
He shook his head abruptly, dispelling the memory. The only thing that mattered right here, right now, were the little piles of plums in the cute little stand, the deep purple hue they were, the way they still had a bit of water on them from being washed not to long ago. He tried to ground himself in remembering how the plums tasted when he first tried them, remembered how they felt in his flesh hand.

  
“Salut!”

  
Your voice made him jerk his head up, a bit panicked as it broke him out of his grounding ritual. Normally people didn’t talk to him, and they certainly didn’t talk to him when he knew his face was a myriad of emotions. They generally left the big, foreboding, slightly wild eyed man alone.

  
You however, saw the war in his face and realized he needed help. You were beautiful, he decided quickly, eyes roaming your face. The color of your eyes brought a blush to his cheeks.

  
“Vǎ pot a juta?” You asked, motioning to the plums.

  
He nodded, looking back down, “Cinci, vǎ rog.”

  
You smiled a breathtaking smile, plucking five juicy plums expertly from the piles.

  
Taking the bag from you, he swallowed down the questions he was dying to ask: what was your name? Would you go out with him? Would you marry him?

  
“Anya.”

  
Your voice broke him out of his reverie for a second time. This time, however, he didn’t mind so much.

  
“Sorry?”

  
“You speak english,” You laughed softly.

  
He nodded, jaw tight. A thousand and one thoughts stampeded through his mind. Who were you? You obviously weren’t from around here, he could tell because neither was he. So, what were you doing here? Was it possible you were a HYDRA plant? Though if you were he’d probably be able to tell. All those agents had this certain . . . god complex air about them. You however felt genuine, you felt like a long lost home waiting with open arms. Did he want to tumble head first into them, or did he want to keep running, since home wasn’t something he thought he deserved?

  
“My name’s Anya, what’s yours?” The cheeriness to your voice warmed his cold heart, awaking in him this desire to go outside of himself.

  
Bucky hesitated, not sure what to say. He could give you the name he’d been using, Grant, but for some reason he didn’t want to lie to you. Though it’s possible by giving you the name Bucky he may be inadvertently lying. Was this a good idea? Was anything he was doing a good idea?

  
You noticed his hesitation, “Do you not know your name?” you teased, smiling slightly.

  
He shook his head, surprising you. He was about to turn, ready to accept you thinking he was weird or an escaped mental patient, when you called back out to him. You surprised Bucky Barnes for what seemed like the thousandth time that day, and he had a feeling that if he let you into his life you’d surprise him for the rest of it.

  
“I don’t really know my name either.”

  
He turned back to you, puzzlement etched into his features, “What do you mean, you just told me it was Anya.”

  
You shrugged a shoulder, “Yeah, well it’s the name the Abbey gave me after they found me on the side of the road.”

  
Bucky stepped closer to the stand, nodding intently. He knew what it was like to be found by someone as he was on the brink of death, knew the torment of not knowing who you were.

  
“How old were you?” He asked, his voice soft and warm. You were like him, maybe you could understand him, maybe you could be the first.

  
“They think I was around 8. I had no idea who I was, where I was, how I ended up on the side of the road. They took care of me, took me in. I wouldn’t be alive without them.” Your voice took on a reminiscent quality as you remembered the Sisters that raised you.

  
“Bucky,” His voice was short, a bit rushed, like he needed to force the word out of his mouth, like the word was on fire and if it didn’t leave his body he’d burn.

  
You didn’t even miss a beat, you smiled wide, holding your hand out to shake, “Nice to meet you, Bucky, if that is your real name.”

  
He barked out a laugh, shaking your hand. That moment right there was when he fell in love with you. 


	3. Heard the Echos of Screams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay! So now that I have this updated, I'll let y'all know that updates are generally happening on Wednesday. I do a lot of writing for other Marvel characters too, if you want to read that my tumblr is spoopykiley (kileybird in a few weeks)
> 
> This is where we get into more of the actual Civil War storyline!

Today was the day you were going to tell him you loved him. It’d been a few months since you’d first met Bucky, and you’d felt it from the moment he wandered up to your stand, thoughts swirling through his eyes. You were gone for him the moment you heard his laugh. Every day spent with him confirmed he was made for you and you for him.

  
Everything was so easy with him, the smiles, the laughter, he made you forget that you didn’t know anything about your past by giving you memories to look back on and relish. You’re current favorite was the time he taught you to make bread. He’d been so gentle and patient with you, telling you his favorite stories from the bakery, guiding your hands and helping you with the ingredients. You’d accidentally let the bread burn when you two got caught up talking, but even the burnt crust was the best thing you’d ever had. You could eat anything and it would taste amazing as long as you were staring at his smile.

  
Lately you’d been researching amnesia and what parts of the brain were infected when it happened. It was all so fascinating and you wished you had more resources than the small library. Maybe one day when you got to where you wanted to go you’d be able to go to school for it. That’s another thing you needed to talked to Bucky about. You knew he wasn’t tied to this place and you finally had enough money for a plane ticket and you were ready. You wanted him to go with you because you couldn’t see your life without him at all, and this move would be huge, everything you’d ever held onto. You had a feeling he’d follow you, but there was always that small chance.

  
You’d let an employee run the shop today while you got things in order. You packed the meager possessions you’d acquired after you lost everything a few years back. Everything fit into your backpack. Some days you liked it that way, though others you wished you could set down some root, build a stable life. Selling plums couldn’t really afford you that.

  
Standing outside of Bucky’s apartment you started taking deep breaths, calming your nerves. He was going to say yes: of course he would, why wouldn’t he?

  
“You know me?” A deep voice floated from inside the room, halting your racing pulse. Who on earth was that?

  
“You’re Steve, I read about you in a museum.” Bucky’s familiar timber came next, the frightened restraint tugging at your heart. He was scared, whoever was inside with him was making him scared.

  
You chose that moment to enter quietly, not to sure of what you were walking into but knowing you couldn’t just let him be afraid by himself. He had to know you were there, and whoever was in there making him scared had to know you were there as well. No one messed with your Bucky.

  
He whipped his head over to you, panic on his face, “Anya, no, you can’t be here. They think I killed him but I didn’t and they’re coming for me. You can’t be here, they can’t know about you.”

  
“Bucky what are you talking about?” You adjusted the strap of your backpack, eyes worried. You shifted your gaze to the tall blonde in the kitchen, Captain America. You recognized his face from all of the headlines. Bucky had talked with you briefly about his past, how he was forced to work for an organization that wasn’t good. How they made him forget things and people and places. But what was Captain America doing in Bucharest?

  
“SHIELD is coming for me. They think I bombed a United Nations meeting, think I killed the King of Wakanda. I didn’t though, I’ve been here this whole time. That doesn’t make a difference though, they think the Winter Soldier is still here. That I’m still him. I don’t do that anymore.” He directed that last bit towards Captain America.

  
“I know you’re nervous, you have plenty reason to be. Are you lying?” Captain America’s eyes flicked towards you for a second, obviously sizing you up. What was this girl doing here? Who was Anya to Bucky?

  
Bucky shook his head, about to speak, but you cut him off.

  
“He’s been here the whole time, I was with him all of yesterday. There’s no way he could have gone to Vienna and come back here without me knowing.”

  
Captain America turned to look at you fully, “Well the people who think he did are coming here now, and they’re not planning on taking him alive.”

  
“That’s smart, good strategy.” Bucky sounded defeated, scared, like he knew this day was going to come.

  
Heavy footsteps made there way up the staircase outside the door. You quickly made your way over to Bucky, shrinking against him a bit. What the ever loving fuck was happening?

  
Captain America watched you, eyes calculating, “This doesn’t have to end in a fight, Buck. For her sake.”

  
Bucky walked over to the far wall, tugging you with him. The footsteps stopped right outside his door. “It always ends in a fight.”

  
You were pretty sure someone was talking in Captain America’s ear, because he looked around frantically, the air a man who knew he was running out of time slipping into his being, “You pulled me from the river! Why?”

  
Bucky moved you behind him, away from the door, away from Captain America. Glancing at you briefly, an apology in his eyes, he removed the glove he always wore, revealing gleaming metal. You filed this new knowledge away for later, right now your only priority had become staying alive, and making sure Bucky stayed alive.

  
“I don’t know.” His voice was calm, collected, resigned.

  
“Yes, you do.”

  
In that moment a projectile shot through the window, heading straight towards you. Bucky blocked it, sending it towards Captain America who threw his shield down and protected you all from the blast. You understood in that moment that he wasn’t here to bring Bucky in to anyone who wanted to kill him. He was here to save Bucky. Which meant keeping him alive was now a priority for you too.

  
The door started to rock with the weight of a ram trying to take it down at the same time shots were fired through the window. Bucky flipped the mattress up to deflect the bullets and you flipped the table to jam it into the doorframe. Men broke through the windows next and as Bucky and Captain America fought them off you searched around for the bug out bag you knew he kept.

  
“Buck! Stop! You’re going to kill someone!” you looked over just in time to see Bucky punch through the floorboards, grabbing the bag you were looking for.

  
“I’m not going to kill anyone. I’m going to make sure she stays alive.” He threw the bag out of the apartment and onto a nearby roof, reaching for you.

  
The next few moments were a whirlwind. More men broke their way in, raining bullets as they went. Captain America instinctually shielded him and Bucky, but you didn’t have time to be awarded the same treatment. Instead you dropped to the ground, swinging a leg out and dropping one of the gunmen who were all to focused on Bucky to really notice you.

  
You heard a strangled cry come from behind the shield and you knew Bucky thought you were dead. He emerged, and seeing your face, renewed his attempts to get to you. He threw Captain America headfirst at a couple of gunmen while you grabbed a cinderblock and chucked it into the chest of another. Bucky deflected bullets with his hand and slammed one’s head into his tiny bookshelf.

  
“Let’s go!” he grunted, heading towards the door, ignoring the gun shots that were meant to blow the hinges off the door. He punched straight through it, knocking someone out cold.

  
He burst through and the two of you punched and kicked your way through, Bucky shielding you, constantly making sure you were okay.

  
Once you got on the roof you thought for sure you two were home free. He’d just picked up his bag and shot you a victorious look when out nowhere a black mass landed on his head, causing you to shriek.

  
The mass stood, revealing the form of a man in a panther battle suit. He unsheathed his claws, a silent declaration of intent. Without a moment’s hesitation Bucky charged forward. You watched in horror as they fought, not knowing what to do without any sort of weapon or knowledge of who this person was and why they were attacking Bucky. You spotted Captain America inside the apartment ledge, about to call for him, when he backed up and fucking jumped. It was then you noticed the helicopter as well as another flying thing, jumpstarting your instincts. You ran towards Bucky, ready to jump onto the panther and take him down when a hail of bullets diverted your path.

  
The other flying thing, a man with wings you now noticed, took the helicopter down, giving you the moment you needed to send your foot crashing into the panther and knocking him off Bucky.

  
“This is not your fight!” his accent was thick, muffled slightly by the mask.

  
Before you could respond Bucky was calling for you, pleading with you to run. You did as you were told, following him down the side of the building and through the streets, the panther close on your heels, and Captain America close on his. It was hard keeping up with these super soldiers, but thankfully your body adjusted as you sprinted. You weren’t fully aware of what all was happening around you, only that you needed to get to safety.

  
You followed Bucky closely through every twist and turn until he grabbed a motorcycle literally off someone and all but flung you onto it, landing behind you and squeezing the throttle, effectively caging you in. Thinking you might actually get away now, you looked behind you only to see panther gaining.

  
“Bucky!” You screamed as panther grabbed at him, trying to pull him from the bike.

  
You kept screaming as the bike tilted, Bucky stopping it from fully falling with his hand. You kicked at panther, dislodging him once again from you and Bucky. Honestly it would have been impressive, his stamina, if he hadn’t been trying to kill you.

  
A bomb exploded behind the bike and panther lept from the bowls of it, slashing the tire, causing you and Bucky to be thrown and hit the pavement hard, rubble biting into your body. Your ears rang from the explosion and your head hurt from the impact. Suddenly Captain America was standing in front of you and Bucky, protecting you from the panther. Bucky pulled you tight against him, angled in front of you as the four of you stared each other down while police circled you, screaming to stand down.

  
The cherry on this whole fucked up cake was when another fucking flying guy dropped from the sky decked out in armor.

  
“Stand down, now.” His voice echoed, tinny and commanding.

  
Bucky never relaxed and you didn’t feel any safer. Captain America touched Bucky’s arm before putting away his shield. That move should have relaxed you, because that move meant the fight was over. All it did, however, was make you more afraid.

  
“Congratulations Cap,” the tinny voice turned its attention toward Captain America, who was now raising his hands in surrender, “You’re a criminal.”  
You watched as armed guards forced Bucky to his knees and onto the ground. Tears started streaming down your face as they forced you down too. You didn’t have to get fully on the ground, but they did make you get on your knees and cuff your hands behind your back. The guy who took down the helicopter emerged from the dust of the bomb explosion with his hands raised as well. Being in this position, seeing Bucky on the ground, seeing them handcuff Captain America, was not how you thought this day was going to go.

  
The panther removed his mask and you kind of recognized him, though you couldn’t place his face. It didn’t really matter to you though, even when the others seemed to recognize him. All that mattered was that Bucky was looking at you like he’d just betrayed you and sentenced you to your death.


End file.
